OUR SOULS

Leicester's very own DIY legends

We sat down with guitarist Mark to get the full story on their band history, the one record that changed everything, and why the band's latest EP is a batch of "serious six slabs of shallots."

The Leicester-based band Our Souls is proof that great punk rock is built less on grand planning and more on happy accidents, shared history, and a healthy dose of defiance. What began with digging through a vinyl collection and an internet dating site has coalesced into a sharp, energetic band whose latest work is challenging their own DIY roots.

For Mark, the spark for music was lit by his parents’ vinyl collection, soaking up everything from David Bowie to Boston’s "More Than A Feeling." But the pivotal moment came when he borrowed a record from the local library: Therapy?'s Troublegum. "I swear I’ve never been the same since," he admits, calling it a mind-blowing conversion. This paved the way for the gateway drug that was a mixtape from his friend Ben (who is also in the band Enderby) featuring Dookie on one side and Nevermind on the other.

The formation of Our Souls is a "motley crew" tale of crisscrossing friendships and band incest. Mark and Ben used to be in a band called More Amour with a Dave, who is now in Enderby. Ben then "cheated" on Mark in a band called Victory Gin, where Jim, the other guitarist, was also playing. Jim and Ben, however, "have been best of friends forever."

The final members were recruited just as chaotically. Mark recruited singer Ian after seeing him around—the two played football as kids, and Mark would "always chat him up, in a platonic sense." When the band needed a vocalist, Ian, who had been in some bands Mark thought were "fucking rad," was in. Bassist Andy was found through the internet musician dating site Join My Band. Mark remembers the guy scheduled to come the week before either "decided to trim his pubes, never known," but thankfully missed it, because Andy clicked instantly: "it took no more than 10 seconds of Andy playing to go 'ye gods, try harder.'"

The band's sonic evolution has been a journey away from their origins. Their first EP, I Might Drink Myself To Death, was recorded DIY in the shoe factory where Jim is the gaffer, and Mark admits it sounded "kinda like we recorded it in a bin, in a really punk rock DIY way." Now, they go to "actual studios" because, as Mark puts it, they’re "not too punk to say we'd like to sound like someone took the f***ing bin lid off."

The change, however, is not without critical observation. A Punk News commentator once said their new sound was "digitally frosted." Mark shrugs off the comment, noting that commentator's market was likely "very niche."

Musically, the band feels they have developed significantly, having moved toward songs that incorporate more "nuances and dynamics" than they ever would have in 2018. The creative process is nicely varied, with everyone contributing. Generally, Ian writes his own songs, Mark writes his, and then Ian takes other people's songs to write the lyrics.

The band is thriving, despite acknowledging the "fucking brutal environment out there with work and stability." Mark says they are "generally ok of late" and "never done much better." Music is the "amazing distraction" that keeps them "sane and straight and hanging out." Andy’s recent reproducing adds to the general happy days.

Mark is philosophical about the realities of the industry: "Fuck the industry they want to fuck you and make money from you. Maybe this is why we're all working day jobs." He believes people decide who will be successful and "the suits pick out the lottery winners." His desire for change is simple: "Fucking pay us or fuck off." He sees the internet as a double-edged sword: initially a great tool for "equal access for all," but ultimately it "just transpired to be another means of capitalising aspiration and ambition."

Every time they are given a room to play a show is considered a privilege. Mark’s personal favourite gig was playing at his buddy's house "for his brothers stag do, who is also my friend, in a conservatory in a Leicestershire village. Fuck you, night peace." The worst experience was playing a show in Worcester where some folks sitting on sofas looked like they'd "rather put a tramps bunions in their soup than listen to us play another song"—a moment he admits was "slightly soul destroying."

The band refuses to be anything but themselves on stage: "What could be less punk than pretending you're someone else?" Mark notes he has always admired strong performers but avoids "wearing the hat" of an artist he admires.

Choosing a favourite song is difficult, but Mark loves performing "Mental Health," an old song from Ian's previous band that they adopted. Off the new EP, he champions "Glaswegian Blood, Yorkshire Heart, Leicester Lad (Chin Up, Mate)" because "thats from a place thats true and it tells."

Their dream is to open a show for Drug Church, Dinosaur Jr, or Joyce Manor, bands they admire for their "incredible players and amazing songs." For a collaboration, Mark admits he would feel like an "unworthy twat" sitting next to Kurt Cobain or J Mascis, so he'd rather go for "anyone that'd buy me a pint to loosen them up and see how it goes."

The band has a new single, "Them Old Haunts," out October 10th, which leads into the new EP, DIY Misery, out November 7th. Mark describes the release as "Six slabs of serious sirloin, or if you're vegetarian or carbon conscious, serious six slabs of shallots."

Their message to their fans is direct: "We've got a new record out called 'DIY Misery'. We think its f***ing great, certainly by our standards, and would appreciate it greatly if you’d lend an ear to see if you like it. If you do, well f***ing marvellous, come see us or buy a shirt, or both, so we can make some more of that shit, as it were. We love everyone (well almost)."